


watch it begin again

by LouisTomlinson_Styles



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bookstore AU, College AU, I don't even know what is is, M/M, bookshop au, can i tag taylor, cranapple lube is an unnecessarily recurring thing in this, harry's a frickin nerd, is that trickery, larry au, nice, technically my AP lang and comp teacher read this, title from begin again by taylor swift, typical, zayn is rude
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 20:15:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3353888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LouisTomlinson_Styles/pseuds/LouisTomlinson_Styles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Let me know if you need anything, Harry. Promise I won't scream again. Probably. Sorry for scaring you." Louis turned then, realizing that he was most likely being creepy. He was an employee at a bookstore, not a bartender. His job was not to flirt with the customers.<br/>"I wasn't scared..." Harry said indignantly to the back if Louis' head. Louis hummed at that, because of course not.</p><p>or the one where Louis works in a book store and Harry is a big endearing nerd</p>
            </blockquote>





	watch it begin again

It wasn't like there was nothing going on with Louis. Really, he had a lot going on at the moment, thankyouverymuch. It was just that he was lonely. And bored. A job at a bookstore while he works on his theater degree is not exactly working in the CIA - there's never anything going on. He works Saturday nights and then weekdays between classes, so he hardly even gets any customers.  
Which is why he is playing his tenth game of Piano Tiles in a row when a mop of dark brown curls and longlonglong legs ducks into the little bookstore and shakes off a bit of rain. Louis doesn't note the customer much, just gives him a brief once over to confirm that it wasn't a robber or something. He notices a lavender sweater, looking so soft and so inviting, and black jeans that were maybe painted on, the guy's knees poking out of tattered slits, and little brown boots pulled on his too big feet. All Louis got was the back of his head and the tiniest bit of his profile before returning his attention to Piano Tiles on his iPad.   
He's vaguely aware of the customer padding around the bookshelves, knows that this guy is actually just shopping for a book, unlike so many others who come in. Most people come in and demand Louis gather a certain author's works, or hunt down a specific title. Others come in just to buy a Coke from the fridge that hums in the corner of the shop. Then there were some people, the diamonds in the rough, who came in and actually skimmed the shelves, looking for nothing in particular, just hoping something jumps out at them. People who actually enjoyed reading. Louis didn't particularly fit into that category of people, but there was something so... Interesting about them. People who looked for adventure in the pages of a book, eyes darting around summaries inked into hard covers and taking in as much of a story as they could from two paragraphs. Louis liked to watch them, and he would really be paying more attention to the customer if he wasn't about to break his record on Piano Tiles.  
"Dammit!" He found himself saying before he could stop himself when he missed a tile just short of breaking his record, hearing what sounded like a bunch of books fall to the ground shortly after. He nearly threw his iPad down on the counter beside the cash register before he rushed to the source of the chaos, heart in his throat. If some guy just got crushed by an avalanche of paperback novels because of him, he was definitely not going to have a job anymore. "I am so sorry, sir." He rushed, grabbing as many of the books that would fit into his small hands off the floor.  
"It's, um - it's no problem. Just, ah, startled me." He was rubbing the back of his neck as if endeared, and his toes were pointed in toward each other. Louis let his eyes skim over a few of the titles as he picked them up.  
"Big romance reader, then?" He asked, handing over the books he'd collected off the floor. Most of them were paperbacks in different pastels, with scrawling font whispering the titles on the pretty spines. A few of them were just a bit thicker than the rest, and darker, with promises of erotica and whatnot within.  
"I, um," the customer searches for words and wow, this guy stutters a lot. "Yeah, I guess. 'M just a big reader, really, and this week I'm just - I dunno - in the mood for romance."  
"Wait," Louis blinks, finally looking up from the books in the guy's hands to his face and that was a mistake because he has big green eyes and thick pink lips and pretty pale skin and now Louis has to look away to rediscover his train of thought. "You're reading all those in a week?" There were at least ten books, all good sized, in the stranger's massive hands.  
"Maybe. Probably. Some people binge watch Friends. I binge read, I guess." The man's long, pale fingers, were twitching around the books they held. He looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him up, maybe, and Louis kind of just wanted him to calm down. He worked in a book store, for God's sake, he wasn't going to judge someone for enjoying reading. In theory, all his customers were supposed to enjoy reading.   
"That's extremely impressive, wow." Ok, maybe Louis should stop looking at this guy's face because he was entirely too pretty and Louis ended up saying things like 'wow' to him. Why.   
"Um. I just moved here. So. I need books. Because all mine are in boxes, or I've read them. Also I needed to scope this store out. I'll probably end up here a lot, so, I was hoping it would be peaceful."  
"Oh, I'm really sorry. Have you ever played piano tiles?" The man shook his head a little, clearly confused and Louis wasn't sure whether he wanted to run away and never talk to this guy again or talk to him forever and ever without even stopping to take a breath. "Oh, well, it's an app. Like, for iPhones?" He paused, waiting for the man to show some sort of recognition, "And I was really close to beating my high score. Then I lost. Sorry about that, usually I resist profanity when customers are through here."   
"Oh. That's good, then."   
"I'm Louis," he supplied the lull in their conversation, sticking his hand out.  
"Harry." The other man smiled and moved all the books in his hands until they were balanced in only one of his arms. His hand felt huge around Louis'.  
"Let me know if you need anything, Harry. Promise I won't scream again. Probably. Sorry for scaring you." Louis turned then, realizing that he was most likely being creepy. He was an employee at a bookstore, not a bartender. His job was not to flirt with the customers.  
"I wasn't scared..." Harry said indignantly to the back if Louis' head. Louis hummed at that, because of course not.

Harry came in at the same time on Saturday night over the next few weeks like clockwork. Louis managed not to scare him again, and merely smiled behind the counter when the now-familiar face peeked up at the counter when Harry entered the shop. He tried really hard not to flirt with Harry when they had some actual face time as he checked out his books, but he was all tight jeans and long legs and green eyes and big sweaters and a nose that got more and more pink as the weather got colder with the passing autumn.  
"Fantastic Murders of the 10th Century?" He asked, looking over the books Harry had dropped on the counter to purchase.  
"Sounds interesting." Harry shrugged, his dark green sweater moved with his shoulders and his hair looked darker today than it usually did. It was held back with what looked like a silk scarf, brown and green and a few specks of white, too, all looking so... Pretty in his hair.   
"You've said that about every book, every week." Louis accuses, an eyebrow arching toward his hairline.  
"I just find a lot interesting, 's all." He shrugged again, and Louis felt his eyes soften. He didn't know what he expected Harry to say, but it wasn't that.  
"You must be smart." Louis said, because he's an idiot who had no idea what to say to Harry when he looked into those stupid green eyes and catalogued the exact color they were when they contrasted with the darker green of the cable knit sweater that swooped down below his pale white collar bones.  
"I dunno. Maybe."  
"You go to Northwestern?" Not that Northwestern was the only university around Evanston, not that Harry had even said he actually lived in Evanston. Just. Louis goes to Northwestern. And it's not like he really wants Harry to go to the same college as he does, or anything. It's just that he goes there, so it was the first place to pop into his mind. That's all.  
"Yeah. Studying English Literature and art history."   
"Oh, wow. Double major? That hurts my mouth to even say." This pulled a laugh out of Harry, at least, which, okay. His hand slaps over his mouth when he realizes he's laughing really hard and Louis' legs almost give out because this six foot something man with a gravelly voice and an affinity for any and all books actually just /giggled/.   
"With a minor in pysch." He added sheepishly, cheeks turning a pretty pink color to match his wind abused nose.  
"I go to Northwestern, too. Never seen you around, though." And Louis swears he isn't pouting. He's not, because he's an adult who can hold a conversation with another adult, regardless of how attractive said other adult is, without blatantly flirting with them. He can.  
"Oh. I, uh, just transferred from Bates. In Maine. For second semester."  
"Oh? You a freshman then?"   
"Nah, sophomore, actually." A sophomore. So he was somewhere between nineteen and twenty one. Louis was twenty two, so Harry was definitely in his age range. Not that Louis cared about whether or not Harry was close enough to his age that they could potentially date. He was just mentally filing Harry's age along with the exact color of his eyes today and the tint of the blush on his cheeks. Which isn't weird, thankyouverymuch.   
"Ah, almost over the hump, then." Louis smiled, scanning the last book. Harry hummed, a sort of ending to their conversation. But Louis didn't want to stop talking. "So what made you come all the way to Evanston from Maine?"  
"Hm? Oh, I dunno. Wanted to get away from that place, I guess. Grew up there, whole family lives there... Wanted to be independent, I suppose."   
Although he wants to say something that straddles the line of endearing and charming, Louis just offers Harry a tight smile and a bag of books. "Enjoy these," he encourages, fingers brushing against Harry's during the exchange.

"I swear to God, Zayn. I'm not lying to you. He's perfect. He's strange and mysterious and so, so, so pretty. He is ruining my life."  
"All you've talked about all month is this guy. What the hell is up?" And what kind of best friend would Louis be if he actually had a coherent answer to that question?   
"He's perfect." Louis says honestly.  
"Why don't you ask him out, then?"  
Louis nearly collapses with the stupidity of what Zayn's just said. Just ask him out? First off, a boy like Harry deserved to be wooed. Properly wooed, like candles and ice cream cake and sunsets and fine wine and cranapple lube. The whole shebang. Secondly, Louis was like the bench warmer for a small town's tee ball team and Harry was starting pitcher for the Red Sox (see: oh so very out of his league). He couldn't just ask him out. Life is not that simple. "You do not understand how much I can't do that."  
"You're annoying." Zayn reminded him.  
"But you love me!"

Maybe Louis spends a little extra time getting ready before work on Saturday because he knows Harry will be there. Maybe. Not that he'd ever tell anyone that he spends a good amount of time authenticating the 'perfect sex hair' look, or that he'd nicked some concealer off the shelf at Sephora and was using it to cover up imperfections on his nose and chin. No one has to know, that's all.  
Except, it was Saturday and it was thirty minutes to closing time and Harry hadn't shown face yet. And of course Louis didn't care - Harry was just a customer after all - it wasn't like a structured thing. It wasn't like a planned date.   
Except that it kind of was, and Harry was either really late or ditching him completely, and Louis struggled to just concentrate on his umpteenth game of Piano Tiles because (and he'd never admit it) he missed Harry. Not that they ever had deep conversation, or even interesting conversation. Harry was just beautiful. And Louis felt like he was having hot guy withdrawals, honestly, being holed up in the stupid bookstore. He briefly entertained the idea that maybe Harry was just a figment that his imagination had conjured up to distract him from dying of boredom.  
Louis sighed and began to clean up, only six minutes left until close. It seemed that his hopeless crush had better things to do on a Saturday night than pick out books and have awkward conversation with the overly curious, hungry-eyed employee. Whatever. Louis didn't need Harry. He didn't need to see him every week. They weren't even friends.  
On his way toward the door, he sees someone through the storefront window sprinting down the sidewalk. He's recognize those ridiculously long legs anywhere, and with the mess of curls dancing with each bound, Louis is sure it's Harry.  
"Please tell me you aren't closed." Harry is now standing in the doorway, completely out of breath, a light film of sweat across his nose despite the cold weather.  
Louis really wants to go home. He wants to watch Breaking Bad in his underwear and order in Panda Express and scroll through tumblr. He wants to say the store is closed, sorry, try again tomorrow. But Harry's eyes are blown wide and he literally sprinted to the store and Louis is a weak man. "Nope, go ahead."   
"Thank God." Harry nearly moans, brushing past Louis to the political science section. Louis is equally surprised, upset, and glad that Harry didn't notice that he was halfway to the door with his coat on and bag tucked under his arm when he - quite literally - burst in. He backtracks behind the cash register and waits for Harry to pick his poison(s).  
It's an agonizing twenty minutes until Harry makes his way to the counter with four huge books balanced between his long fingers. "Let's see what literature was so important that you channeled Usain Bolt to buy them." Louis teases, skimming over the titles of the books as he scanned their barcodes.  
"Was running really late," Harry explains, a blush creeping up his cheeks.  
"I saw!" Louis laughed, "So passionate about your books, Harry. S'cute." Okay. Here's the thing, Louis did not mean to outright tell Harry that he was cute. He did not mean to subtly hit on him at quarter past ten at his place of business. But he did, so now the ball was in Harry's court. Louis hoped above all hopes that Harry would either giggle it off or let him down easy.  
"You're cute." All of a sudden there are sirens going off in Louis head because HHARRY JUST SAID I'M CUTE HARRY JUST SAID I'M CUTE HARRYJUSTSAIDI'MCUTEHATRYJUSTSAIDI'MCUTEOHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD.   
The moment of silence that ensued was probably very short, but Louis felt it all over his body, seeping into his bones, covering him, suffocating him. Both of them had pink turning red high on their cheekbones and it was just. What was he supposed to say? He couldn't exactly jump his bones right here - he works here. It'd be weird the next time he was in here, also even though there isn't technically a code of conduct, he'd sure that if there were rules, 'Do Not Sex Up The Customers' would be somewhere near the top of the list.  
After the agonizing eternity of five seconds of silence, Louis and Harry are both giggling. Inexplicably, at the same time, they burst into a fit of giggles. It was some sort of concoction of elation, verification, and giddiness. The soaring feeling in their bellies of a crush feeling the same way escaped them both in laughter.  
"Thank God." Louis finally said, "Thought I was gonna have to woo you or something."  
"Woo me?" Harry smirked, fingers dancing around on the counter, inching toward Louis' forearm.  
"Yeah, like properly woo you. Flowers and chocolates and cranapple lube, the whole nine yards." This gets a rise out of Harry, who immediately has to slap his hand over his mouth to contain his booming laugh.  
"Is that so?"   
"Yeah... But now I'm thinking I probably won't have to woo you... Such a shame..." He quirked an eyebrow at Harry, teasing.  
"How about we skip the cranapple lube and go straight for a coffee date? Maybe tomorrow if you aren't busy? Or right now. I don't care."  
"You wanna do something right now?" Louis asked, a little stunned.  
"Uh, yeah. Please."   
"I know a place, lemme close up and we'll go."  
And that's how a sarcastic twat of a theater major met an intelligent model of an English Lit/Art History double major. Louis knows Harry is way too good for him, but Hell if he's the one to let him know. Louis thinks he'll stick around until Harry figures it out, but until then they'll have plenty of nights full of cinnamon scented candles, heart shaped chocolates, and, of course, cranapple lube.


End file.
